Her Words

Her footsteps echo rhythmically, the first two hesitant, the rest intentionally systematic so as to not seem rushed.  The lights glaring should be the source of her perspiration, but the cold air vent blowing from the ceiling chill her bare arms against the nerves causing her sweat soaked blouse.

Although she braces herself for the echo, her voice startles her as she speaks into the microphone.  She was told they were waiting patiently for her, but she was unsure.

She hoped there was at least one left to hear her words.

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